The Rainbow-虹(英文版)-第89部分

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He　touched　his　cap　and　stolidly　set　the　car　in　motion。　He
seemed　to　have　a　league　with　her　to　ignore　Skrebensky。

The　latter　sat　as　if　trapped　within　the　taxi…cab；　his　face
still　working；　whilst　occasionally　he　made　quick　slight
movements　of　the　head；　to　shake　away　his　tears。　He　never　moved
his　hands。　She　could　not　bear　to　look　at　him。　She　sat　with　face
uplifted　and　averted　to　the　window。

At　length；　when　she　had　regained　some　control　over　herself；
she　turned　again　to　him。　He　was　much　quieter。　His　face　was　wet；
and　twitched　occasionally；　his　hands　still　lay　motionless。　But
his　eyes　were　quite　still；　like　a　washed　sky　after　rain；　full　of
a　ost　ghost…like。

A　pain　flamed　in　her　womb；　for　him。

〃I　didn't　think　I　should　hurt　you；〃　she　said；　laying　her　hand
very　lightly；　tentatively；　on　his　arm。　〃The　words　came　without
my　knowing。　They　didn't　mean　anything；　really。〃

He　remained　quite　still；　hearing；　but　washed　all　wan　and
without　feeling。　She　waited；　looking　at　him；　as　if　he　were　some
curious；　not…understandable　creature。

〃You　won't　cry　again；　will　you；　Tony？〃

Some　shame　and　bitterness　against　her　burned　him　in　the
question。　She　noticed　how　his　moustache　was　soddened　wet　with
tears。　Taking　her　handkerchief；　she　wiped　his　face。　The　driver's
heavy；　stolid　back　remained　always　turned　to　them；　as　if
conscious　but　indifferent。　Skrebensky　sat　motionless　whilst
Ursula　wiped　his　face；　softly；　carefully；　and　yet　clumsily；　not
as　well　as　he　would　have　wiped　it　himself。

Her　handkerchief　was　too　small。　It　was　soon　wet　through。　She
groped　in　his　pocket　for　his　own。　Then；　with　its　more　ample
capacity；　she　carefully　dried　his　face。　He　remained　motionless
all　the　while。　Then　she　drew　his　cheek　to　hers　and　kissed　him。
His　face　was　cold。　Her　heart　was　hurt。　She　saw　the　tears　welling
quickly　to　his　eyes　again。　As　if　he　were　a　child；　she　again
wiped　away　his　tears。　By　now　she　herself　was　on　the　point　of
weeping。　Her　underlip　was　caught　between　her　teeth。

So　she　sat　still；　for　fear　of　her　own　tears；　sitting　close　by
him；　holding　his　hand　warm　and　close　and　loving。　Meanwhile　the
car　ran　on；　and　a　soft；　midsummer　dusk　began　to　gather。　For　a
long　while　they　sat　motionless。　Only　now　and　again　her　hand
closed　more　closely；　lovingly；　over　his　hand；　then　gradually
relaxed。

The　dusk　began　to　fall。　One　or　two　lights　appeared。　The
driver　drew　up　to　light　his　lamps。　Skrebensky　moved　for　the
first　time；　leaning　forward　to　watch　the　driver。　His　face　had
always　the　same　still；　clarified；　almost　childlike　look；
impersonal。

They　saw　the　driver's　strange；　full；　dark　face　peering　into
the　lamps　under　drawn　brows。　Ursula　shuddered。　It　was　the　face
almost　of　an　animal　yet　of　a　quick；　strong；　wary　animal　that　had
them　within　its　knowledge；　almost　within　its　power。　She　clung
closer　to　Krebensky。

〃My　love？〃　she　said　to　him；　questioningly；　when　the　car　was
again　running　in　full　motion。

He　made　no　movement　or　sound。　He　let　her　hold　his　hand；　he
let　her　reach　forward；　in　the　gathering　darkness；　and　kiss　his
still　cheek。　The　crying　had　gone　by……he　would　not　cry　any
more。　He　was　whole　and　himself　again。

〃My　love；〃　she　repeated；　trying　to　make　him　notice　her。　But
as　yet　he　could　not。

He　watched　the　road。　They　were　running　by　Kensington　Gardens。
For　the　first　time　his　lips　opened。

〃Shall　we　get　out　and　go　into　the　park；〃　he　asked。

〃Yes；〃　she　said；　quietly；　not　sure　what　was　ing。

After　a　moment　he　took　the　tube　from　its　peg。　She　saw　the
stout；　strong；　self…contained　driver　lean　his　head。

〃Stop　at　Hyde　Park　Corner。〃

The　dark　head　nodded；　the　car　ran　on　just　the　same。

Presently　they　pulled　up。　Skrebensky　paid　the　man。　Ursula
stood　back。　She　saw　the　driver　salute　as　he　received　his　tip；
and　then；　before　he　set　the　car　in　motion；　turn　and　look　at　her；
al's　look；　his　eyes　very
concentrated　and　the　whites　of　his　eyes　flickering。　Then　he
drove　away　into　the　crowd。　He　had　let　her　go。　She　had　been
afraid。

Skrebensky　turned　with　her　into　the　park。　A　band　was　still
playing　and　the　place　was　thronged　with　people。　They　listened　to
the　ebbing　music；　then　went　aside　to　a　dark　seat；　where　they　sat
closely；　hand　in　hand。

Then　at　length；　as　out　of　the　silence；　she　said　to　him；
wondering：

〃What　hurt　you　so？〃

She　really　did　not　know；　at　this　moment。

〃When　you　said　you　wanted　never　to　marry　me；〃　he　replied；
with　a　childish　simplicity。

〃But　why　did　that　hurt　you　so？〃　she　said。　〃You　needn't　mind
everything　I　say　so　particularly。〃

〃I　don't　know……I　didn't　want　to　do　it；〃　he　said；　humbly；
ashamed。

She　pressed　his　hand　warmly。　They　sat　close　together；
watching　the　soldiers　go　by　with　their　sweethearts；　the　lights
trailing　in　myriads　down　the　great　thoroughfares　that　beat　on
the　edge　of　the　park。

〃I　didn't　know　you　cared　so　much；〃　she　said；　also　humbly。

〃I　didn't；〃　he　said。　〃I　was　knocked　over　myself。……But　I
care……all　the　world。〃

His　voice　was　so　quiet　and　colourless；　it　made　her　heart　go
pale　with　fear。

〃My　love！〃　she　said；　drawing　near　to　him。　But　she　spoke　out
of　fear；　not　out　of　love。

〃I　care　all　the　world……I　care　for　nothing
else……neither　in　life　nor　in　death；〃　he　said；　in　the　same
steady；　colourless　voice　of　essential　truth。

〃Than　for　what？〃　she　murmured　duskily。

〃Than　for　you……to　be　with　me。〃

And　again　she　was　afraid。　Was　she　to　be　conquered　by　this？
She　cowered　close　to　him；　very　close　to　him。　They　sat　perfectly
still；　listening　to　the　great；　heavy；　beating　sound　of　the　town；
the　murmur　of　lovers　going　by；　the　footsteps　of　soldiers。

She　shivered　against　him。

〃You　are　cold？〃　he　said。

〃A　little。〃

〃We　will　go　and　have　some　supper。〃

He　was　now　always　quiet　and　decided　and　remote；　very
beautiful。　He　seemed　to　have　some　strange；　cold　power　over
her。

They　went　to　a　restaurant；　and　drank　chianti。　But　his　pale；
wan　look　did　not　go　away。

〃Don't　leave　me　to…night；〃　he　said　at　length；　looking　at　her；
pleading。　He　was　so　strange　and　impersonal；　she　was　afraid。

〃But　the　people　of　my　place；〃　she　said；　quivering。

〃I　will　explain　to　them……they　know　we　are　engaged。〃

She　sat　pale　and　mute。　He　waited。

〃Shall　we　go？〃　he　said　at　length。

〃Where？〃

〃To　an　hotel。〃

Her　heart　was　hardened。　Without　answering；　she　rose　to
acquiesce。　But　she　was　now　cold　and　unreal。　Yet　she　could　not
refuse　him。　It　seemed　like　fate；　a　fate　she　did　not　want。

They　went　to　an　Italian　hotel　somewhere；　and　had　a　sombre
bedroom　with　a　very　large　bed；　clean；　but　sombre。　The　ceiling
was　painted　with　a　bunch　of　flowers　in　a　big　medallion　over　the
bed。　She　thought　it　was　pretty。

He　came　to　her；　and　cleaved　to　her　very　close；　like　steel
cleaving　and　clinching　on　to　her。　Her　passion　was　roused；　it　was
fierce　but　cold。　But　it　was　fierce；　and　extreme；　and　good；　their
passion　this　night。　He　slept　with　her　fast　in　his　arms。　All
night　long　he　held　her　fast　against　him。　She　was　passive；
acquiscent。　But　her　sleep　was　not　very　deep　nor　very　real。

She　woke　in　the　morning　to　a　sound　of　water　dashed　on　a
courtyard；　to　sunlight　streaming　through　a　lattice。　She　thought
she　was　in　a　foreign　country。　And　Skrebensky　was　there　an
incubus　upon　her。

She　lay　still；　thinking；　whilst　his　arm　was　round　her；　his
head　against　her　shoulders；　his　body　against　hers；　just　behind
her。　He　was　still　asleep。

She　watched　the　sunshine　ing　in　bars　through　the
persiennes；　and　her　immediate　surroundings　again　melted
away。

She　was　in　some　other　land；　some　other　world；　where　the　old
restraints　had　dissolved　and　vanished；　where　one　moved　freely；
not　afraid　of　one's　fellow　men；　nor　wary；　nor　on　the　defensive；
but　calm；　indifferent；　at　one's　ease。　Vaguely；　in　a　sort　of
silver　light；　she　wandered　at　large　and　at　ease。　The　bonds　of
the　world　were　broken。　This　world　of　England　had　vanished　away。
She　heard　a　voice　in　the　yard　below　calling：

〃O　Giovann'……O'…O'…O'…Giovann'！〃

And　she　knew　she　was　in　a　new　country；　in　a　new　life。　It　was
very　delicious　to　lie　thus　still；　with　one's　soul　wandering
freely　and　simply　in　the　silver　light　of　some　other；　simpler；
more　finely　natural　world。

But　always　there　was　a　foreboding　waiting　to　mand　her。　She
became　more　aware　of　Skrebensky。　She　knew　he　was　waking　up。　She
must　modify　her　soul；　depart　from　her　further　world；　for
him。

She　knew　he　was　awake。　He　lay　still；　with　a　concrete
stillness；　not　as　when　he　slept。　Then　his　arm　tightened　almost
convulsively　upon　her；　and　he　said；　half　timidly：

〃Did　you　sleep　well？〃

〃Very　well。〃

〃So　did　I。〃

There　was　a　pause。

〃And　do　you　love　me？〃　he　asked。

She　turned　and　looked　at　him　searchingly。　He　seemed　outside
her。

〃I　do；〃　she　said。

But　she　said　it　out　of　placency　and　a　desire　not　to　be
harried。　There　was　a　curious　breach　of　silence　between　them；
which　frightened　him。

They　lay　rather　late；　then　he　rang　for　breakfast。　She　wanted
to　be　able　to　go　straight　downstairs　and　away　from　the　place；
when　she　got　up。　She　was　happy　in　this　room；　but　the　thought　of
the　publicity　of　the　hall　downstairs　rather　troubled　her。

A　young　Italian；　a　Sicilian；　dark　and　slightly　pock…marked；
buttoned　up　in　a　sort　of　grey　tunic；　appeared　with　the　tray。　His
face　had　an　almost　African　imperturbability；　impassive；
inprehensible。

〃One　might　be　in　Italy；〃　Skrebensky　said　to　him；　genially。　A
vacant　look；　almost　like　fear；　came　on　the　fellow's　face。　He　did
not　understand。

〃This　is　like　Italy；〃　Skrebensky　explained。

The　face　of　the　Italian　flashed　with　a　non…prehending
smile；　he　finished　setting　out　the　tray；　and　was　gone。　He　did
not　understand：　he　would　understand　nothing：　he　disappeared　from
the　door　like　a　half…domesticated　wild　animal。　It　made　Ursula
shudder　slightly；　the　quick；　sharp…sighted；　intent　animality　of
the　man。

Skrebensky　was　beautiful　to　her　this　morning；　his　face
softened　and　transfused　with　suffering　and　with　love；　his
movements　very　still　and　gentle。　He　was　beautiful　to　her；　but
she　was　detached　from　him　by　a　chill　distance。　Always　she　seemed
to　be　bearing　up　against　the　distance　that　separated　them。　But
he　was　unaware。　This　morning　he　was　transfused　and　beautiful。
She　admired　his　movements；　the　way　he　spread　honey　on　his　roll；
or　poured　out　the　coffee。

When　breakfast　was　over；　she　lay　still　again　on　the　pillows；
whilst　he　went　through　his　toilet。　She　watched　him；　as　he
sponged　himself；　and　quickly　dried　himself　with　the　towel。　His
body　was　beautiful；　his　movements　intent　and　quick；　she　admired
him　and　she　appreciated　him　without　reserve。　He　seemed　pleted
now。　He　aroused　no　fruitful　fecundity　in　her。　He　seemed　added
up；　finished。　She　knew　him　all　round；　not　on　any　side　did　he
lead　into　the　unknown。　Poignant；　almost　passionate　appreciation
she　felt　for　him；　but　none　of　the　dreadful　wonder；　none　of　the
rich　fear；　the　connection　with　the　unknown；　or　the　reverence　of
love。　He　was；　however；　unaware　this　morning。　His　body　was　quiet
and　fulfilled；　his　veins　plete　with　satisfaction；　he　was
happy；　finished。

Again　she　went　home。　But　this　time　he　went　with　her。　He
wanted　to　stay　by　her。　He　wanted　her　to　marry　him。　It　was
already　July。　In　early　September　he　must　sail　for　India。　He
could　not　bear　to　think　of　going　alone。